


The Birds and the Bees

by InsominiacArrest



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pegging, Porn With Plot, Sex Toys, Tension, apocalypse problems, camp politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 17:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4271712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke, Bellamy and the camp have a problem. Teens are into sex, the two are into survival and in between they are trying to understand each other, in less words than not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Birds and the Bees

Clarke found a sex toy. Clarke found a sex toy. Why wasn’t she more surprised?

It was the end of the world there was no doubt in her mind that a sex toy is the last thing she should expect to find. On the other hand there was a lot she couldn’t be surprised by any more.

She discovers it in the car they found while hiding from the toxic fog a while back, it was in a small bag in the dashboard like some sort of last minute grab someone scrambled to hide or bring along. Or maybe they just forgot about it in the dash and it now was a small reminder that people were people even at ‘The End.’

Regardless, it was small but long, turquoise and had three rounded tiers each larger than the last, and, and it had to have a use didn’t it? One of the first things she discovered trying to survive from the wreckage of no resources was everything could be used for something. It could be repurposed. 

 

She put it discretely in her pack and went back to camp.

“Find anything?” She’s greeted with when she re-enters the area, they are always looking for new items.

“No.” She says despite herself, even though she had nothing to be embarrassed about. She still said no. “Not really, some car insurance.” She smiles, cracking half a joke. They don’t laugh, she quickly escapes to the dropship.

Clarke goes to the top level of the ship and puts her stuff down, no one is in there for now and she feels the relief of isolation.

She barely has room to breath out the stress when a girl knocks on the hatch door and peaks her head in,

“Clarke, um, can you come talk?”

Clarke arches an eyebrow, that was a new one for her.

“Down here that is.”

“Where?”

The girl hesitates, looking around shiftily, “follow me.”

Clarke pursues her down the ladder and back into the camp, it’s getting dark and thus much more crowded, noisy as groups sit down to dinner.

Clarke makes a mental note to organize the rations the next day and get the word out on adjusted amounts to eat considering the influx of scavenged foods, do some more math on it.

The young girl’s voice, 16 maybe 17, breaks her away from her mental checklist.

“It’s Katerina.”

“Okay,” Clarke says slowly. She had no idea who that was.

She gestures for her to follow her into a tent. A girl in a long braid and a round face is crying with several other girls patting her back and cooing at her.

“What seems to be the matter?” Clarke can’t get her tone to sound less formal, she gives in and just stands stiffly at the door at attention.

“Clarke,” she sniffles, “thank God, you must know what to do.”

 

A bubble of pride wells up in her chest alongside the conflicting weight of responsibility.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“You’re mother was a doctor…” One of them notes.

“Correct.. Is she injured?” She asks looking around between the gathered females.

“....” Katerina cries harder, the other girls, most of which Clarke can’t place, exchange looks.

“No! Worse,” Katerina gets out after heaving slightly, “I missed my period.”

“Oh.” Clarke blinked rapidly, she wasn’t prepared for that. Or this whole situation, though she guessed she should had some foresight. They _were_ all teens.

“Well, stress can make you irregular, I mean…Or. Have you had relations with anyone lately?” She gets down to business, they had come to her first.

“So it could be stress?” Her voice is hopeful.

“Have you had sex with anyone lately?” She repeats. She doesn't reply right away, instead looking at her hands with an unblinking empty concentration.

“It’s Bobby's isn’t it. I swear, I swear I never meant to do this. We tried to be careful.” She breaks out into a fit of sobs, which were grating on Clarke's nerves at this point. She tries to think fast to hasten the end of this disaster.

“We’ll try to get some herbs together, maybe get Jasper to mix a sort of chemical solution. It won’t be pleasant, but it could do.”

“No! You can’t tell anyone...They’ll talk. Plus...I think Bobby would want to keep it, he’s in the repopulation camp.”

“We do have to consider repopulation.” One of the others contributes thoughtfully.

“How does dying in childbirth sound?” Clarke has to be blunt, “we don’t have the tools, not to mention the anaesthetic for this sort of thing.”

Katerina’s eyes go wide and more silent tears roll down her cheeks, she nods ever so slightly.

 

“We should be careful though, we don’t want to poison her, plants are different then they were before the war. Toxic I bet.” One of the more astute bystanders notes. Clarke examines her, reasonable people like that were important to the cause, she only wished knew any of their names.

“We have to think about this,” the one that talked about repopulation says while boldly looking Clarke directly in the eye.

Clarke nods haltingly, “can I tell other people in charge?” They know who she meant.

“Yes, okay.” Katerina says in defeat, “but the less that know the better! No one else.”

She nods back to indicate she heard her.

“I’ll come back and look at your condition later.” Clarke asserts, ready to deal with whatever health issues were to come in a bit. God, they couldn’t have a baby.

Clarke walks in a clipped fashion, swiveling her head to locate, ah yes,

“Bellamy.” She makes a beeline to where Bellamy was chatting up a brunette. “Can I speak to you?”

He looks around to spot her, appearing almost insulted she was interrupting him, he looks back to the girl, cupping her chin in his large hand,

“I’ll be right back.”

He gets up, most their conversations as leaders were in private now so he knows where this is headed.

She jerks her head to the side, indicating the dropship.

“C’mon.”

They traverse in silence into the ship and up the ladders, making it to the empty top tier.

“What is it princess?” He intones, sounding haughty to Clarke's ears.

“One of the girls seems to be pregnant.” She gets to the point.

“Oh.”

“That’s what I said.”

He rubs his chin, “yeah, that sounds like a problem. Albeit one we can handle.”

“Babies are not something we can afford at all.” She almost snaps.

“No I mean, just get rid of it, problem solved.”

“We need the right drugs for that. Or an operation no one here is prepared for. We need to think outside of the box.”

“God this was just going to happen wasn’t it?” He laughs dryly, “and I fucking even told them to be careful, coitus interruptus, pull out, not that hard.”

Clarke’s cheeks go marginally red from the language, “they’re teenagers. We should have planned for this. Factored it in, preempted it.”

“I did. I gave them The Talk and everything, how to knock it off, not ruin this for everyone. But here we are.”

“You did.” Clarke says disbelievingly. “I don’t remember that.” He smirks at her.

“I didn’t think I had to worry about you Princess. Chastity before Queendom I figured.”

Clarke sees red, she glowers at him from afar, a long silence spans between them like landmines and lava on where they will step forward to next.

“Perhaps if I’d known I could have given a speech that involves dying in childbirth throughout history, and children not making it through winters." She pauses, "it appears you didn't scare them very well.”

“Oh, I scared them alright. Are you seriously blaming me? Like you said, they’re teenagers, this always was going to happen.” His voice is louder, less dismissive.

“Was it? We are responsible for these people.”

“Isn’t that my line?”

“We just have to figure this out.”

“Get Jasper on it. Some chemistry could flush this out. How far along is she anyway?”

“About a month plus. Missed her period.”

“Alright. We can work with that.”

“And we can’t tell. She doesn’t want too many people knowing, something about pressure to keep it from the boy.”

“Well she’ll just have to get over that.”

“Bellamy.” She says warningly.

“As leaders we do what’s best for everyone, you at least know that much.”

“She has some right to privacy while we sort this out, maybe the radio will be fixed and I can talk to my mom.”

“You really want to do that?”

“No. But we do what’s best for the everyone.”

“She’ll get over it. I’m telling Jasper. Monty too since he knows plants, and they both have some brains. This isn’t the type of thing we can play the waiting game with Clarke.”

“ _Bellamy_.” She tries to put more heat behind her words, “you don’t make decisions alone here. We don’t tell until we have to.”

“Clarke, you have good intentions-”

“And that’s how you got here,” she interrupts him. It’s his turn to scowl,

“and that’s how we’ll get another mouth to feed, or get someone killed.”

“We have time.”

“And I say we act now.”

They walk around each other like circling hyena’s ready to be at each others throats for dominance. Bellamy breaks the eye contact first, he examines the ceiling momentarily.

“One day. We wait one day.” Bellamy turns on his heel and goes down the steps, no doubt back to the scenario he left with less angry girls and more adoration.

Clarke huffs and slides down the wall, placing the back of her head on the metal and closing her eyes briefly. She breaths through her nose slowly, in fours, then gets back up again.

\------------

The next day goes by just about as same as the last one. She scavenges the surrounding area collecting berries and other foodstuff. Only this time she kept her eyes alert for any light poisons. If that was a thing.

Clarke had no idea what she was looking for. Or what she was doing in general.

Her mind kept wandering back to the fact Bellamy had some sort of sex talk with the camp early on and didn’t consider making her privy to it.

She had sex. She literally had sex. With Finn, who had a girlfriend, which she was resigned to be okay with. Be really okay with and- she looks more thoroughly for any potential growing nonlethal plants.

Clarke comes back to camp in a bizarre calm, as if it is all unreal. A little hot around the collar and still fixated on getting an answer for this dilemma.

“Have you seen Katerina?” Clarke asks the first 100 she comes across when she remembers the check-up she had to give the girl.

The boy shrugs and keeps walking, Clarke asks around until she is directed back to the same tent from yesterday, making her feel somewhat silly for not checking there first.

“How are you feeling?” Clarke begins when she walks in.

“I’ve been puking.”

“Alright.” Okay, Clarke didn’t know where to start, she did not research pregnancies in her free time on the Ark.

“May I feel?” She’s bluffing her way through this as she points to the girls abdomen.

“Yes, yeah.” Katerina agrees, nothing is there Clarke finds when she pats the region.

“Have you figured any solutions out yet?” She asks, seeming much more composed than yesterday.

Clarke shakes her head, “no, not yet.”

Her face drops solemnly.

“But we’re on the case. We’ll get through this.” She gives her her best attempt at a smile.

“Oh Clarke.” _Don’t cry again_ is all Clarke can think, she is shaking already, “I don't know how this happened.” She shakes harder, “I’m scared.”

“It’s going to be okay.” that’s what leaders said, wasn't it.

She looks her in the eye, blue, bright eyes on small face, it hit Clarke that she was a child. Just around 16.

She laughs suddenly as Clarke feels where the baby would be and asks her about her health,

“healthy as I can be on the surface. Do you ever miss home Clarke?”

“....” Clarke looks away, she wasn't going to answer and Katerina got the hint.

“... I'm also a little hungrier than usual.”

“I can order extra rations for you, try to aim for as much protein as possible, nuts mostly.”

She breaths in softly, “thanks Clarke.”

The kind smile she her arises in Clarke a renewed meddle to see this through. It would be okay, she would make it okay.

Clarke is packing up and listening to Katerina explain the nuances of the feeling of morning sickness when a rumbling comes from a crowd outside in the center of camp.

It wasn’t too unusual until she makes out Bellamy’s deep voice addressing them,

“attention everyone. We have an issue here today that we all need to put our heads together to solve. It’s a delicate matter, but who knows how many times it’s going to happen.”

Clarke’s eyebrows rise like the sea levels at high tide. She exchanges a breathless glance with Katerina who looks scared, very scared.

“No one is naming names,”

Clarke rushes out of the tent and into the crowd.

“Bellamy!” She barks out through her teeth for what feels like the umptheenth time.

“Clarke.” He blinks at her, “I’m not naming you here.” The crowd laughs, she marches right up to him.

“Can I talk to you.” It wasn't a question.

“Let me talk to them first,” he gestures around,

“it hasn’t been a day.”

“It’s been a day.” He’s looking at anything else but her, “24 hours exactly.”

“Okay, but doing this with the whole camp is not what anyone had in mind!”

“Clarke, this is only going to keep happening, we might as well address it now.”

“Can I talk to you in private?” She seethes as the entire ensemble watches Clarke and Bellamy fight like mommy and daddy, it wasn’t a good look.

Some of the crowd even ‘oohs’ when she says that.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me get away with _not_ doing that?”

“No. You’re right, I won’t.” She grabs him by the collar and all but hauls up into the secluded top room again.

“I can’t believe you!”

“I wasn’t going to out the girl herself, _I_ don’t even know her name.”

“And you don’t think people will guess? She has morning sickness. Or they’ll start harassing other girls they only presume to be pregnant?”

“We need to scare them again Clarke.”

“Find another way. She doesn’t want this out. She’s just a kid Bellamy.”

“What’s her name?”

Clarke doesn’t respond, eyes fixed on him, hot and square,

“You can trust me… also,” he relinquishes, “I told Jasper and Monty. They’re on the case right now.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh my God Clarke, I never pegged you as the drama type. We’re trying to run dozens of people not a feel good co-op where everyone gets a say.”

“You didn’t even tell me what you were doing. This girl came to me first, but it will be on both of our heads if she is harassed, or some other thing we didn’t count on happens. As it always does.”

“I know that Clarke, I know it’s serious. The more people thinking on it the better I figured. You should be familiar with that concept.”

Did he know the whole story surrounding her family? Was he mocking her? Clarke clenched her fists.

“Just. Consult me next time.” She deflates, she wanted to leave, to not deal with this anymore, to avoid Bellamy’s familiarity with her and simultaneous distance.

“Will do.”

“And no telling any more people, not yet.”

“You think that will really help. That I should agree to that.”

“Agree because she’s young and it’s best for her. The group can wait. Agree because we have no plans yet and that will make us look weak. We can’t have another Murphy. Agree because you trust me.”

He looks her in the eye, hard and sustaining, then back down at the ground, lips pursed,

“okay.” He agrees.

Clarke turns on her heels and leaves, going to find Monty and Jasper. The walk there is defined by her own confusion. Bellamy may trust her, but he was proving himself untrustworthy, and the question of who had the real power was a maze of mist with false steps paving the way.

“Hey boys,” Clarke walks into their tent, Monty is looking through some plants and Jasper looks like he’s in thought.

They look up at her in tandem when she enters the room,

“so,” Jasper starts.

“Have you heard?” Clarke asks.

“About?”

“Yes Clarke, the pregnancy. We asked Bellamy if you knew.” They both say at once, Monty being a little more honest.

“And?” Clarke wanted to get to the chase.

They exchange a look between themselves, a silent communication.

“Do you have anything that’s going to change this?”

“No chemicals right now that would be of any use without, you know, fatality.” Jasper shakes his head.

“Plants?” This time they nod.

“Mistletoe.” Monty gets out, “mistletoe. Ragweed. Bush cranberries. But all only in really, really high doses. And if they haven’t mutated into like poison ivy hybrids.”

“Do we have any of those?”

“Not that we’ve found, we asked around though and Monroe swears she saw Mistletoe on the north bank of the river.” Jasper conveys eagerly.

She takes two long breaths through her nose, exhaling sharply.

“You told people?” This was going to be the death of her.

“Not what it’s for.” Jasper reassures her quickly.

“But Bellamy didn’t emphasize that you not tell anyone.” Clarke can feel her jaw clenching.

They boys fidget and look away, Clarke physically forces herself to lower her shoulders and unwind.

“Alright, good. It’s a good start.” She tries to encourage them, and to not give herself away as perturbed.

“It won’t be a nice experience for whoevers going to go through this.”

They look at her pointedly.

“It’s not me!”

They laugh, “jeez, Clarke not that, we thought you’d tell us who it was.”

They didn’t think it could be her.

Clarke exits the tent. Why this happened to her she had no idea.

She’s outside the tent in the dark of the night when she winds up five feet from Finn. She rolls her eyes at the coincidences that make up her days. He’s talking to Raven who is still beaming at him.

Clarke liked Raven, Raven was useful and resourceful and clever. That didn’t stop her heart from thrumming in her throat like it was being plucked by satan.

She did have the sex no one thought she could have with Finn and now Finn had moved on. Or been moved on or moving on, or the point was Clarke was not going to deal with this.

She ducks into the nearest tent.

“Clarke,” a surprised female voice says.

“What does she want now?”

It was Bellamy,

“hey,” she shuffles her feet as she lingers at the entranceway, they are in bed, no clothes on. Bellamy rolls over and stares her in the face, shirtless and bleary eyed.

“I’m with someone.” He says as if it was a business meeting.

“Right.” Clarke ducks back out of the tent.

She removes herself gracelessly to her own sleeping quarters, making at least three new spear points before she can drift off. One stone she almost rounds into an oblong shape. She stops herself.

\-------------

It’s the final day of the dilemma, Bellamy had extended the deadline to five days, it was the fourth day and Clarke was with Monty and Jasper sorting Mistletoe and ‘ragweed’ from other weeds and other identical looking plants.

Clarke pokes herself on a stick,

“ow.” She was not cut out for this.

“How many do we need again?”

“Enough for so much tea she never wants to drink again.”

“Gee, I wonder how long that will take.”

“We should get as much as possible. Reserves for mistakes made later on too.” Monty adds.

“Man, you’d think people would be more careful after seeing all the mutants down here. Or the danger. Or the people dying. It’s like they aren’t thinking.”

“You’re just jealous you’re not getting any.” Monty pushes on Jasper's shoulder playfully. They laugh.

“Anyone pregnant maybe.”

“Don’t sound too upset about it.”

“Never, I’m your’s forever bro.”

Clarke smiles down at her handiwork as they pal around.

They are halfway to a Mistletoe cornucopia when Monroe, who had shown them this patch and then headed back towards camp to hunt, erupted from the woods panting.

“Clarke!” Her tone is urgent, Clarke’s head snaps up immediately.

“The camp!”

Clarke is up on her feet instantly and before she knows it tearing through the woods like her heels are on fire.

Images of grounders laying waste to her people arise in her minds eye, the toxic fog infiltrating this far into the forests, a giant snake or bear or whatever devouring them all one by one. The Earth kills.

As she gets closer her lungs burn and head goes dizzy, she hears the chant begin.

“Repopulation! Repopulation! Repopulation!”

Oh God, _no_.

 

Clarke runs into the camp, it’s in a frenzy, one smaller group pumping their fists in the air and pushing into a larger group which was hissing at them and pushing back.

 

The smaller group is chanting over and over, ‘repopulation.’

This was as worse as it got Clarke figured.

“What’s going on?” Clarke bellows when she finds her way to a slightly elevated patch of ground above the crowd.

Sterling, one of the boys she could actually recognize, turns to her.

“They’re losing it.” His eyes are wide with fear.

 

“We were sent down here to reclaim the earth!” One of the boys in the smaller group crows, “let’s reclaim it.”

They cheer in a mad rush, blindly, collectively.

She repeats herself, louder, more assertive, so the crowd couldn't ignore her, “what is going on here?”

 

Finally, one of them turns to her, she thinks his name is Mark, the leader it looks like of the small band.

 

“Someone is going to have to help repopulate.” He addresses her. “We are going take the earth back, no more grounders outnumbering us, no more being the underdogs, no more 100. We can make 200, 300, civilization can be rebuilt one person at a time!” More cheering.

 

Clarke realized she was going to have a hard time arguing with absolutist talk with words of ‘that’s not realistic.’

 

“We don’t have the tools for that yet! We can’t afford more people. Making more people.” She tries to get across to them in distress anyway.

 

“We’ve come this far Clarke,” Mark asserts, “we can afford more sacrifice and struggles. We are the chosen people, graced with civility in contrast to barbarity, the world needs us, and can fulfill our purpose here. And...REPOPULATE.” They start chanting again.

 

The gathered numbers are lost, some are changing sides, wandering over to the other encampment of Repopulaters.

 

Clarke grabs her hair and pulls in frustration. She starts formulating a game plan on what kind of calming nightmare scenario she can articulate to them.

 

She halts mid thought when Bellamy shows up, palms facing skywards and face squinting as if he has no idea what’s going on. As if he has no idea what’s going on.

Clarke makes a straight line towards him at a barely contained fast walk. She was pissed.

“This is what I was talking about!” She shouts above the chorus of voices, “why do you do things like this!?”

“I didn’t do this!” He shouts back in awe of the situation.

“And Katerina just told everyone herself then?”

“No, I don’t know how this happened. I swear I didn’t spread it.”

She gives a sidelong look, one very basic part of herself believes him, the critical part does not.

 

Clarke runs through all the other possible candidates in her head of who spread this, but it didn’t matter, she just had to deal with this and had to deal with it and deal with it now.

 

“Attention everyone,” Bellamy booms. Or maybe he would deal with this.

“Go back to your tents immediately. This is not a request, this is an order or else weapons and foods will be restricted.”

The crowd warily looks to him, many nodding along, others eyeing him to search for if he was bluffing or not. “Break it up!” More stares.

“Now!” Enough of them must believe him to shuffle back to their tents like reprimanded dogs with tails between their legs.

 

Clarke was grudgingly impressed.

 

First she recognizes one of Katerina’s friends giving fearful glances around, Clarke approaches her and grabs her upper arm firmly to get her attention.

“Is she…?”

“Katerina is fine. They don’t know it’s her, just that someone is pregnant.” She reassures in a quiet tone.

“Look after her.”

“Of course.” She pauses

“I’ll be over later, first…”

She turns back to Bellamy,

“How did this happen Clarke?” The friend asks to the back of Clarke's head.

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

She gives Bellamy a hard look and strolls away from the girl, he’s frowning deeply and surveying the retreating crowd.

“Talk. Now.” She barks.

He concedes immediately, following her a rapid pace to their usual get away at the top of the dropship. They had to converse.

 

“Are you guys really going to go off in secret to talk again?” Octavia intercepts them like a phantom at the doorway, which was the type of person she’d become since she disappeared so often. “This involves all of us you know.”

 

“Octavia, we need less heads right now,”

“And one answer.” Clarke grumbles.

“I’m not sure a baby would be that bad.”

“That’s why you’re not at this conference.” Bellamy says slowly, paternally with a bit of bite. Clarke has no idea what’s going on between them and walks ahead as they exchange harsh whispers.

 

Clarke reaches the top of the dropship and waits for Bellamy to finish with his sister, she doesn't have to wait long.

 

“Bellamy. We almost lost control.” Clarke asserts when he walks in the door.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I will when my voice is considered.” She widens her stance, facing him head on.

“C’mon Clarke, they went to you first, they trust you, it’s not like we're not in this together at this point.” He almost sounds resentful.

“Then act like it.”

“Then get better. I’m not going to baby you into leading.”

Clarke blows air out her nose,

“I was handling this crisis on my own. I didn’t see you out there picking mistletoe all morning.”

“Isn’t that a chick thing?” He doesn’t sound serious, but Clarke balls her fists up.

“No. The chick thing is helping protect young girls instead of telling the whole world and letting it explode into pressure to ‘repopulate,’ what even is that.”

“It’s not something I created. I told you, I didn’t do this, believe me or not.”

“So it’s just a coincidence?”

“She had friends who knew.”

Clarke pauses. One of her friends did mention repopulating. Damn, she doubts herself for a moment.

“Okay. Okay. We just need to move forward, blame won't get us anywhere.”

“Damn straight it won’t.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “so helpful.”

“And what do you think would help?”

“Talks. With the camp as the next game plan.”

“Fine. A second pregnancy scare tactic won’t hurt.”

“It will have to be a detailed one. You can cover whatever it was you did before. I’ll go over the logistics, they’ll cool down when they see how complicated it is.”

“Uh, maybe just mine? Logistics turn me off too Princess but I think I can handle this one.”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you what I’m going to do…Bellamy,” her voice becomes more light “someone would think you’re trying to exclude me from sex talks.“ When he doesn’t answer she pouts, “I’ve had sex.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think your friend over there counts…”

“What? No, with Fi…” The words die in her mouth, her friend? He juts his thumb over to the pack, her pack, that she just discarded there. Clarke looks up to the heavens and curses.

“That was,” anything she said would sound fake, “something else?”

“Sure it was.” His eyes are like two mocking balls of sun.

“You have a very strange conception of who you think I am.”

“Sure. But it’s hard to argue with hard evidence.”

Clarke pinches the bridge of her nose. This is not what she came here for.

“Talks.”

“In the morning. I just sent them all to their tents, better not go back on that.”

“That could just give them time to plan or become resentful.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “going back on the order now would look flimsy. We can wait it, let them cool down.”

“That sounds fine for now.” Clarke is tired, too worn out to argue, and it must be showing as Bellamy places a hand on her shoulder, she looks at it like a dead snake on her persons.

“Don’t you have to try to repopulate tonight or something?” She says dryly.

“I was hoping I could borrow yours.” He tries to say it with a straight face but cracks up midway through.

Clarke groans, “you’re enjoying this way too much. I just was going to repurpose it.”

“I don’t think I was the one taking enjoyment from it.”

“Well of course you can borrow it, we should share everything as co-leaders.”

He snorts, “relax. I just never guessed the stick up your ass was literal.”

Clarke's eyes light up, she snarls mildly “would you like yours to be literal? Why were you even going through my pack in the first place?”

“I accidently kicked it,” he explained defensively.

“Kicking things unnecessarily isn’t any better.” Clarke had seen him going through anger fits recently, she didn’t understand it but she didn’t question it either, “you could find better outlets… and don’t say ‘like yours’ because I will become death.”

“Who says I was angry?”

“You're more transparent than you think your are.”

“And you know me?” He expresses in disgust. He’s still holding onto her shoulder, but now it’s become an iron grip, digging bruises into the skin, she doesn’t say anything yet.

She looks up at him, meeting his eyes head on, her brows furrowed and bitter,

“Correct..” She confirms. “And you don’t know me.” She knows her words are challenges, but doesn’t care.

He backs her up closer to the wall, Clarke is prepared to be yelled at or stared at for an uncomfortably long time.

He kisses her.

She was not prepared.

It’s a heavy, mouthy, kiss that forces her to bend her neck back and let him in further. He’s not gentle, both hands clasping at her shoulders roughly, but Clarke doesn’t need gentle.

 

She drops her shoulders and lets him tilt her backwards, placing a hand on her lower back to support her as their faces collide.

His lips are chapped, hers too probably, and they are pressing in like a compactor, weighing her down, distracting all other thoughts she could have.

They pull apart, breathing into each others faces and meeting eyes like colliding meteors, not happy, not satisfied, but drawn together.

“What is this? No, never mind. Let’s not talk about it.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

They embrace again, this time with reciprocated force and intensity, she bites at his lip, making him jump, he licks the side of her mouth and drags his left hand down her back to clasp her hip.

 

She nips the side of his lips, and opens it up to let her in, he pushes his tongue into her mouth, lapping the roof of it, and clasping their lips together deftly.

 

While Clarke was not a virgin there was an obvious difference in experience, he moved in her mouth heatedly at a pace she struggled to keep up with. The make out in a strained, breathless motion for minutes Clarke can’t count.

 

She finds herself up against the metal wall and lifting her chin ever higher to meet his mouth, when he starts to stand too tall she moves to his neck, sucking slight discolorations into the skin.

He huffs something like a laugh when she bites down.

 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What.”

“You have such nubby teeth.”

“And you’re too tall.”

He laughs again, no doubt examining how short she actually is, instead of banter though he grabs her by the waist and lifts her off the ground. He pushes her back to the wall to support her and she is forced to wrap her legs around his waist.

He holds her up by the ass and Clarke has to readjust herself, coincidently colliding their crotches together, Bellamy gasps out loud, noticeably already hard in his jeans as she presses against hm.

Clarke bites her lip as it brushes over her clit, already hot and bothered and stimulated by the rough underwear fabric pulling against it as he ruts into her.

 

They kiss slow and stable, building a back and forth rhythm. Clarke buries her hand in his thick dark hair and yanks every time he pushes at just the right place or bites her neck daringly.

 

She wonders if he’ll cum in his pants if he rubs his dick anymore into her hips and twat, not to say she wasn’t curling her toes everytime he angled himself just right.

 

He pauses, pulling away and visibly contemplating her breasts. She stares at his biceps, they aren’t shaking from her weight, hot, but she decides to get down.

 

She struggles to find her footing, indicating she wants back on her feet, he lets her down slowly.

He reminds her of a dazed ape, eyes unfocused, spittle on his chin and messy wild hair wet with sweat.

 

She wants him more than ever.

 

“Did you want to stop?” He’s not tactful as he asks.

She shakes her head no, “my hips ached.” Which wasn't a lie, but it was mostly since she didn’t him to carry the show the whole way.

 

“Turn around.” He grunts. She complies, out of curiosity and frankly a burning need in her lower bits.

 

He unbuttons her pants and slides his long hands into her underwear and cups her sex, rubbing his fingers along her folds and wet opening. She shivers.

 

With Finn it had been nice, a connection on a deep level. But it was also missionary with the lights on. He knew what he was doing well enough, but it certainly didn’t involve this.

 

She shivers and widens her stance as he probes her deeper, when she audibly gasps, he hones in, humping her clit with the heel of his hand at a relaxed pace.

She squirms and pushes back on him, glad he was holding her up with his other hand as she writhes,

“can I take your shirt off?” He whispers in her ear while pseudo-fucking her.

Clarke can’t remember the word yes, but is able to form her hands around the end of the fabric and yank the material off awkwardly.

 

She hits Bellamy in the face and almost loses her balance but her breasts are soon free. Bellamy immediately latches on to one and kneads it like a cat, cupping and un-cupping one like it’s an experiment.

 

Clarke shivers against the cold air and the harsh hands on her, un-moisturized and pulling at the delicate skin and stimulating the nipple until it almost hurts.

 

“Tell me if it’s okay.” She wished he’d stop doing that. Nonetheless she nods and grinds her ass back into him to encourage the boy, rubbing up against his hardness.

“Ngh.” He’s much more audible than she would have guessed.

He doesn’t let her grind for too long before his fingers are rubbing her clit again, making her cry out. Pleasure pulses from the small bundle of nerves that go off like a firework, sending an electric throb from her toes to her fingertips.

 

This time he builds up the motions in tandem, squeezing her chest and vulva simultaneously. Clarke is on the edge.

He moves further in though and winds his long fingers into her. Fucking her pussy with his index finger.

She hisses through her teeth,

 

“you’re very wet.” He comments and sounds more than a little pleased.

She’s glad she’s turned around so he doesn't see her blush.

She tries to respond, but he slips another finger into her, messaging the silky insides as she clenches around the intrusion and she loses her voice.

 

Lucky for her he is still putting pressure on her main attraction as he adds fingers in, three when he’s done. Which seemed a lot for her take in.

He didn’t suggest putting his dick in though.

 

He just fucks her open while twisting her chest until Clarke is completely gone.

 

She gives a silent scream and she’s cumming, seeing red and losing herself in the waves of rolling pleasure erupting from her hips. Her brain goes dumb and she isn’t sure if it’s 3 minutes or a century that passes, (more like two as he eases her through it).

 

She comes back to her senses and he is still holding her up around the waist and rubbing little circles in her hips. and stomach.

 

Clarke feels warm and calm throughout her limbs, like every single tight screw in her was manually loosened.

She looks back at him, searching for any words to say. He looks cocky.

 

She maneuvers herself out of his grip to stand upright on her own. Clarke searches for her water bottle before she wobbles towards it one unsteady step at a time, she takes several gulps. She tosses it Bellamy when she’s done, he gratefully guzzles it.

 

“Feeling better?” He asks between sips. Clarke has internal conflicts on if she should deny him self-aggrandizement or show some gratitude.

“You’re good at what you do.” She finally says.

“So I take it I just exclusively have been the first to win at the Clarke cherry.”

She feels less good will towards him. “Wow my after glow. There it goes. I told you I had sex before.” She wonders how he can talk when he’s still turned on in his trousers.

“Not like this.”

She nods her head, conceding that much, “it was different. But on the other hand I actually liked the other guy.”

“Congrats to Finn. I’ll tell him after I remind him he’s now at least disapointed two women in bed.”

“Raven seems to be fine with it.” She mumbles, trying to keep all inflection out of her speech.

“Not touching that.”

“So, uh,” Clarke didn’t know how to bring up helping Bellamy get off, Clarke was the type to at least understand a fair trade.

“I’m glad to see you less high strung, maybe you’ll listen to me now.” He says as he turns his back on her, putting the water down.

Clarke was sick of this, sick of his attitude, “so what’s your excuse? You have sex all the time.” She retorts.

“Hey, I’m not the one with repression issues here.”

She folds her arms and rolls her eyes,

“If you’re always using those girls.” Clarke looks down and the idea feels like it’s imbedded in her since always. A stroke of the devil and heaven. “But you still kick bags. Control...others.” She doesn’t say Octavia.

“I don’t see your point.” His eyes linger on the bag too.

She shrugs, “maybe you’d like something else. Than the other girls.”

“Clarke honestly, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Clarke approaches Bellamy slowly, easing up to him like a slinking cat, backing Bellamy up against the wall, trapping him with her arms and a hooded stare. She slides her hand over his ass.

“No. No, no, no. Not that kind of guy Clarke.”

“Are you sure? Because you keep looking at it.”

“....” Clarke doesn’t know what to say when he looks like he’s panicking.

Her tone becomes less sultry and more reassuring, this might actually happen, “no one has to know.” She had just been teasing him….but now.

“I don’t think it’s possible.”

Clarke runs over and fetches something from one of the indoor chests that people stored things in. Of course they stored this in there.

She slides back to Bellamy quickly with a mason jar, starting off with a long chaste kiss to his downturned lips, her arms wrap around his neck and she presses their bodies together.

Something in him seemed to crack like dirt baked under the hot sun, his grip is now loose around her waist, cool and non-possessive.

“Alright.” He breathes out like a prayer.

Maybe Bellamy deserved a break from being in charge.

 

She takes the lead.

 

She lifts the shirt from off his head, which he helps her with since she can only reach so far up, she splays her hands over his chest, feeling up the heated texture and rigid muscles.

She kisses his chest and scratches her nails lightly down his abdomen, he looks up to the ceiling and breathes through his mouth.

 

Clarke wraps her arms back around his neck and distracts with a kiss, a sloppy open mouthed make out, hot and hungry. He groans when she ruts up against his dick again.

 

Clarke decides it’s time when his pants start to sag down. She grabs the lube from where it was stored, probably assumed to be safe and secret in there. Clarke had figured the minors had been trying to find ways to create lube in this wasteland the second they arrived.

Unsurprisingly someone discovered animal fat. Animal fat.

It didn’t matter. Neither of them were squeamish.

 

She at least expects a commentary on the texture or idea but Bellamy simply meets her gaze and lets her lower his pants.

 

Clarke notices him ever so slightly shaking, “tell me if everything's okay.”

“‘m not stopping you...It's okay.” He sounds like porcelain over a fire. Clarke understands in the way people ‘understand,’ in quotes, modern art. Knew it was hard to let go.

 

She lowers her hand past his hips, into the cleft of his ass and takes a digit slathered in animal fat and slips it easily into him, he exhales like it hurts, but closes his eyes like it’s a relief. Clarke understands.

 

She also understands anatomy. She starts slowly, working one digit in with a deft patience while he rotates his hands up and down her back.

When he nods down at her she slides a second finger in and probes her way upward. She assumed this what is was like for guys to find the clit.

She maneuvers around until something like a grunt escapes his lips. She retraces her pathway and finds a bundle of nerves small and exposed.

He makes small noises from the back of his throat while she rubs against it, and lets out a string of curse words when she picks up a steady pace.

“Are you ready?” She finally asks.

“My fucking God Clarke.” She bends down and retrieves the small toy.

“Turn around. Or lie down.” His eyebrows raise at the commanding tone.

He turns around. She slathers the toy in lube except for the last tier and angles it into him, towards the nerves she had found.

He naturally curls his toes when the first bulb enters him, hard and no doubt making its presence known. He is clenching around it and Clarke finds herself hot and bothered all at once.

 

She rocks the second tier further into him, until he is panting, but very much relaxing around it. She closes her thighs together around the last long bulb and nestles in between her legs, sticky enough to stay in place around her firm muscles.

She brings her hands up, one she washes briefly with the water bottle because she’s not dumb, and the other she overlays on his hands. Pinning him to the wall.

 

“Clarke....” He breaths, she starts to move. Using the toy wedged between her legs and a newfound excitement from the experience at hand she thrusts into him. She fucks him.

 

Clarke understands something about herself, a tangled unclear bundle of frustration, a need. And she needed Bellamy and needed to feel like this.

Clarke is making him gasp and pant and cry out as she harshly enters into him, fucking him open until she angle it just right, it’s not a perfect process but Bellamy is coming undone before her eyes.

She doesn’t want it done though.

“Lie down.” She says calmly, backing away from him after shifting the sex toy almost all the way in.

“Hmm?” He seemed to be dazed. She gets on her knees and gestures for him to join her on the floor.

He fumbles down to her where she places him on his back.

He tilts his head to the side. She kisses his mouth like a nun,

“you’re going to like this.” She whispers just above audible.

 

She takes her stance above him, she grabs his cock, he is so hard she can just feel the ache radiating off of him, he was most likely a master at self-denial she realized at this point.

He must read her mind because he bounces his eyebrows up and down, “practice.”

“Right.”

“Though this one is new for me.”

“Well then…” She smirks at him, she aligns herself with his cock, “it’ll be a good one.”

She places her back to him, taking a position some of her dirtier friends would refer to as a “reverse cowgirl.” Her back to him and riding his member like a girl that herds cattle.

 

She was already stretched and unreasonably wet so she descends on him easily, enveloping him in her warmth rather quickly. They both exhale in something close to a whimper.

Her muscles contract, a building pressure once more gracing her as the dick stretches her, stimulating her folds and the button between her legs. She feels full.

 

She focuses her vision back and starts to movs, riding the hard rod up and down. He moves it along by thrusting upward into her in a set dance of push and pull, a connection of string spans between them like sunrise on a bloody field.

She then lowers her hand to where the sex toy is still lodged within him, he’s already off the ground due to thrusting into her, as such she starts moving the toy within him.

 

“Oh my, fuck, ugh, Clarke.” The boy struggles to form words as she fucks herself on him and he is fucked by the toy.

“I, I, uh~”

“This is a new one for you I bet.” She somehow manages to get out as they ride through the valley of unusual sex acts.

He doesn’t reply instead reaching up to bend her back to grasp her breasts again.

 

He seems to be so close Clarke can feel it, she’s frustrated. She wants him to cum, and cum while she does him.

Instead he reaches down and manually clenches his balls, physically denying himself an orgasm, painfully it looks like.

She looks down at him in a shock of not understanding.

 

“One last position.”

“Um.”

“Lift yourself off me.” She lifts her hips to let him go and has a sudden rush of emptiness overcomes her.

He grabs her by the shoulders and turns her over, an awkward move where they fumble to find balance.

He climbs on top. Clarke opens her legs wide, her back on the cold metal. Missionary. With the lights one. She had come full circle.

He is once more sliding into her, easily, satisfyingly, they make stern eye contact like metal grating across metal and then being smelted into a singular pool.

They are one, and angry, and alive.

 

Clarke moans for him as he fucks her. When he thrusts out she eyes the sex toy peeking out of him, the symbol of something in him that was loose, that wanted to be fulfilled. And maybe that was Clarke.

 

She is snapped back to attention when he picks up the pace of rocking into her, a frustrated, gnarled sound erupting from his throat.

“Cum, damn you!” He demands, Clarke’s eyes go wide. He is is erratic and forceful.

“I already did.”

“Again. Cum!” There might be water at the corner of his eyes.

 

She understands Bellamy somehow, a string of swear words leave his mouth. And he wants her to cum, to be ‘freed’ from the ‘high strung’ and to have his own need satisfied by that.

And Clarke fulfilled that need. He wanted, needed, someone else to enter him and erase his responsbility complexes like a bad dream.

 

His hands are between her legs, and she is throwing her head back.

Little shocks racket through her head and send tingles up her spine up to every vertebrate. She cums like a train riding out of a tunnel into a rainstorm, a wash of pleasure encasing her head.

 

She cums, and when she comes back to her senses she finds the other boy pulled out of her and exhausted, covered in sweat and lazily pumping his cock.

 

Clarke had had enough of this. With his delay. She crawls over and gets him by the knees, and firmly yanking his ‘pastor’ and twists the toy inside of him that was all but disappeared to the very hilt.

 

The pumping of his member and twisting of the toy is too much for him. Finally, a long spirt of seamen sprouts from his cock and streak his abdomen and her hand in white. She guides him through it, rubbing his back and pumping out any last sperm he had left. It was a lot.

 

He cums with his mouth open and eyes dilated towards the heavens. And he collapses afterwards like he’s shot in the stomach. He collapses onto of her, making a scenario where she finds herself in a sweaty naked cage.

 

She considers grumbling until he moves, but decides against it.

He says something to her, something smooth and garbled but, as sure as summer, affectionate.

 

She watches him sleep, petting his hair in intervals. It is a messy cuddle pile, inhibitions be damned, for at least longer than a half an hour they are together.

 

She considers letting him sleep the whole night through while she dozes under him, but there was definitely a certain something they needed to be taken out right away. She assumed.

 

She shakes him awake by pushing on his chest, wide and certainly not unattractive. She blushes for being able to put her hands all over it, goes red even though he had just been inside of her.

 

He blinks his eyes open very very slowly. Eyes unfocused and tired, like waterfalls were weighing them down. Clarke purses her lips, she felt bad.

 

“Clarke?” He says obliquely, he rolls off of her, “Clarke.” He looks upward sightless and struck by a realization, as if he has no idea what he’s done.

 

Clark gets up to busy herself. She actually had no idea how to handle this.

 

She takes some more sips of water from a different canister, and places her bra and shirt back on to protect her exposed, very cold, nipples. She searches for her pants for an absurdly long time, and when she turns around she finds Bellamy putting his own on and staring at her fixatedly, evidently having removed the toy at some point.

 

“Don’t mention this...to anyone.” He gets out in a way that reminded her of a child.

“So now we’re keeping secrets and it’s okay.”

“I’m serious.”

Her face softens,

“It’s okay Bellamy. I won’t tell.”

She then contemplates something, tilting her head and having it dawn on her,

“what was this?” It was almost a whisper.

“Heh.” His bravado is back, “think of it as you finally getting that talk about the birds and the bees, I’m the bee and you're the bird. Simple.”

“Are you sure? Birds and bees are interchangeable at a distance.” She says arching her eyebrows. He looks away without a retort.

“Funny.” He says unamused.

She smiles, he hands her something, “nice bush by the way.” It was her pants.

She groans, this time out of frustration, and the fact she had been talking the whole time still exposed was not how she pictured adults, leaders, conversing.

“Talk. Tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I guess we’ve got new idea’s on how to prevent pregnancies.” She gets in a jibe.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs,

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bellamy,” she says in a quieter tone. He waves at her as he descends the ladder with his stuff in tow.

“See you later Clarke.”

Clarke is in sweet isolation again. She sighs, this time it was no help for the confusion rumbling in her. She goes down the ladder from the top of the dropship.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly meant to be a sexy one shot, but then I wanted to build tension- and a plot came into being. Oops.
> 
> Anyway I don't usually write M/F but when I heard one of the lines of 'not easy being leader?' or something like that I decided I really like this ship since the power parity was so interesting. So here it is! 
> 
> Since there seemed to be a plot developing other chapters might be added.


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